


We are beginning

by morporkian_hobbit



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Morning Cuddles, Multi, One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, basically OT4 - Freeform, goemon pov mostly, i personally don't ship jigen and fujiko but you can see that in there if you want, if you're looking for something other than fluff you won't find it here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:34:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28068618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morporkian_hobbit/pseuds/morporkian_hobbit
Summary: Goemon wakes up to the comforting presence of his partners. It's a morning like every other. Tender, gentle, reassuring. Familiar, yet so new. It's a morning like every other that will follow.
Relationships: Arsène Lupin III/Mine Fujiko, Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke, Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III/Mine Fujiko, Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Mine Fujiko, Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	We are beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is more or less a sequel to my as-of-yet-unpublished fic in progress, "In the middle"; it parallels one scene from it and is set after it, but it can definitely stand alone as a fluff one shot. Honestly, it's just fluff. Sweet OT4 cuddling fluff with a side dish of soft feelings. Enjoy!
> 
> Title is vaguely inspired by "In our bedroom after the war" although the OS itself has nothing to do with the song, I just like this line.
> 
> Warning: this OS is un-beta'd, and English isn't my first language, so please excuse any typos or grammar mistakes.

We are beginning

The warm rays of the morning sun are seeping through the cracks in the blind, and tickling Goemon’s eyes through his closed eyelids. He usually wakes up quickly and never lingers in bed, but today everything feels heavy. Pleasantly heavy. It is as if the loving embrace of Morpheus refuses to let him go, and the covers of the bed are too dense for him to slip away from. His mind is hazy, and he isn’t certain where he is, only that he is safe.

No, not Morpheus. Someone else.

His senses start coming back to life, one by one. Touch. There is someone else touching him, embracing him, the feeling of skin against skin slowly pulling him out of his slumber after the gentle caress of the light. There is warm skin swung across his naked torso, a small weight pinning him down as effectively as a heavy rock. There are strands of silk-like softness tickling his face and pulling a small smile on his lips.

Smell. The fragrance of an expensive aftershave, mostly washed out now, mixed in with the lingering smell of cigarettes – he can usually tell the difference between Gitanes and Marlboros, but they are too intricately entangled now, making a up an entirely new scent. Something that smells like home.

Sight. Bright rays of young sunlight, sending pinpricks of red on the back of his eyelids. Light half-obscured by the soft black hair caressing his cheeks. Tan skin, the crook of the neck that he has nuzzled his face into. White scarred skin, the hand resting on his torso. Vibrant colours of reds, oranges, purples and whites inked into the back he is pressed against.

Memory. A heist, a chase, a success. Alcohol. Music. Alcohol. Hands on him, lips on his, more hands, soft bedsheets, sweet burning hotness. Heady feeling of bliss, of love, of _home._ Comfort. Tiredness. Sleep.

Consciousness.

He smiles, as he finally realises where he is, who he is with. An irresistible smile that washes over him, as inescapable as the light of sunrise over the valley he grew up in. There is Jigen, snuggled against him like a perfect puzzle piece. There is Lupin, clinging with gangly limbs tangled with his, like the monkey that he is. There is Fujiko, not far away, laying against Lupin, the tips of her fingers barely brushing against Goemon’s neck.

His hand travels upwards in the narrow space under the covers. Ever so softly, he traces with an index the lines of the tattoo on Jigen’s back; the wings of fire, the stark white flowers. Some of them coincide with the raised lines of long-forgotten scars.

Jigen stirs under the feather-light caress of Goemon’s fingers. A calloused hand comes to meet his, gently pulls it to soft lips that brush against his knuckles.

Goemon’s heart skips a beat. He buries his face in the crook of Jigen’s neck. Inhales. Lets the unique scent of home finish melting his heart.

“I am sorry,” he whispers in Jigen’s ear, “I did not mean to wake you.”

Only a contented hum answers him, the faint vibrations travelling in his hand and along his skin.

There is more stirring behind him. Lupin’s hand snakes upwards; his arm protectively wraps itself around Goemon’s torso, pulling him closer. A soft, searing kiss is pressed against his shoulder blade.

“Good morning, samurai,” a playful voice murmurs in his ear, in a barely audible whisper.

Goemon tangles his fingers with Lupin’s, then with Jigen’s hair.

“Good morning, Arsène-chan.”

It is a comfortable whisper; words so new yet feeling so familiar, as if he had said them every morning of his life. He hopes he will get to say them every morning of the rest of it.

There are a few awkward seconds as Jigen tries to roll around without tangling himself further in the sheets, making Lupin chortle. The gunman props himself up on an elbow, and leans above Goemon to kiss the thief on the lips. Lupin smiles against the kiss.

“Mornin’, marksman.”

“Morning, boys,” comes Fujiko’s voice from behind Lupin.

Her arm reaches across the messy pile of naked bodies, her hand comes to rest softly on Goemon’s shoulder. Lupin half turns around to steal a kiss from her before she can move away, while Jigen lets his head fall back down on the pillow, mere inches away from Goemon. Their eyes meet each other, and the intensity with which Goemon looks at him makes Jigen shiver. He could lose himself in those eyes.

Wants to.

Carefully, Jigen reaches a hand and pushes aside a strand of hair that has fallen across the samurai’s face. Goemon closes his eyes, hard. As if it could stop time, sear this moment into his memory forever.

There is still Fujiko’s hand on his shoulder. Lupin’s fingers tangled with his. Familiar bodies pressed against him; touching him; whispering to him in a language that has never had any need for words. A language that leaves no place for the doubts that have gripped him for too long.

This is where the ideal world begins.


End file.
